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This section was my workspace for philosophy essays between July 2006 and April 2008.
I call this "Prehistoric Kilroy" because it gave me practice for more
disciplined essays in Kilroy Cafe.Also see my philophical blog and Twitter feed.

Issue #40, 12/6/2006

Playing God

By Glenn CampbellFamily Court Philosopher

If you have significant power over someone else, you become
a god in their eyes. Judges are gods, and so are parents,
bosses and leaders of all kinds. People look up to you and
expect you to solve their problems. They may also expect you
to have god-like omniscience and wisdom that you can't
possibly achieve.

Being a god conveys an outward image of strength, but what
you feel inside may be quite the opposite: humility,
weakness, self-doubt and fear. People expect you to do so
much for them, but once you control the helm of whatever ship
you are sailing, you realize how little power you truly
have. You are still swept along by wind and waves. More than
anyone, you see how one false move can lead to disastrous
effects and how you will be responsible if things fail.

Judges, for example, seem powerful on the surface.
Distressed people come to them expecting them to right all
wrongs, but the actual power of judges is extremely limited.
They can only act within the constraints of the law, based
on the case that is actually presented to them. They are
far from omniscient, because they are only allowed to see
the documents and evidence that the lawyers formally present
to them—lawyers who aren't always as competent or
eloquent as they should be. Inevitably, this leads to some
bad rulings, and judges get the blame.

Being a god, by its nature, is only a few steps away from
being hanged by a lynch mob. People worship gods, but they
also expect unrealistic things from them,

"He has left us... his shoe!"

and they curse the gods when things don't go their way.
Gods may also curse themselves, knowing privately how weak
they are and how they often can't win no matter what they
do. As much as it is glorified, leadership is not always a
fun position to be in.

At Family Court, some people can be seen praying before they
go into the courtroom. Can you imagine the sort of
expectations this creates? They aren't just expecting the
judge to make a reasoned decision based on the presented
facts. They are expecting divine intervention.

The job of being a god can be drudgery like any other.
People expect you to solve their problems even if you don't
have the tools. It can also be a burden to know that, in
most cases, you shouldn't be doing this job at all. Ideally,
each person and family should be working out their own
problems. After all, they are closer to the problem, know
the facts better and have more discretion, flexibility and
opportunity for creativity than a god will ever have.

As a god, you should always being working toward this goal:
getting the hell out. Your primary role is to put yourself
out of a job by restoring local control to the place where
it properly should be. Otherwise, you will be trapped
forever in this no-win position.

The gods we call "parents" should be doing this almost from
the day the child is born. They should be saying, "Listen,
kid, you are responsible for yourself. I will protect you,
but only to a certain extent and for a limited time. If you
want something, you have to earn it. If you touch something
hot, you're going to get burned, and I'm not going to
protect you from that experience."

Instead, most parents want to play Santa Claus. They want to
give their kids stuff and be glorified for it. This is the
great seduction of godhood: It feels nice to be worshipped.

The main problem with being Santa is that the gratitude of
your subjects quickly turns into a sense of entitlement.
Santa has to perform bigger and bigger miracles every year
to satisfy the ever-escalating expectations of him.
Eventually, there's going to be a crash when starry-eyed
wonder turns into betrayal. "You mean there isn't a Santa
Claus?"

It might feel gratifying to see your face on every lamppost and
displayed every night on TV—Der Führer, Our Cherished
Leader! Public adoration might pump up your ego, but it is
only a matter of time before your subjects turn on you for
failing to deliver on impossible dreams. Mom and Dad aren't
gods, and if they set themselves up this way—as the
god-like givers of all good things rather than facilitators
to independence—then there's going to be a price to
pay in the end.

A coddled child inevitably becomes a narcissistic adult,
believing that the gods exist to serve him. Likewise, a
populace that has been ruled by a dictator tends to be
dissatisfied by any democratic form of government that
follows. They expect the illusion of perfection like they
once knew. Set up by his own ego, the god may eventually
find himself hanging upside down in a meat shop, but his
people may be just as badly off, having never learned the
skills of self-regulation.

Perhaps there should be a "God School" that all leaders,
judges and parents should be required to attend. It would
teach them humility and educate them on the psychology of
their flock and the responsibilities of their position.

The god would learn the every word has significance. You
don't make a joke or speak a criticism without carefully
analysing its potential effects, because the risks of damage
and misinterpretation are huge. Whole societies, young lives
and great swathes of the future can turn on a single word,
so a god has to be very careful whenever he clears his
throat.

Inevitably, there is some superficial pomp and circumstance
in every leadership role, because people want their leaders
to be superhuman, while leaders have to exert some discipline on
their subjects to get things done. Judges, for example, wear
a sacred robe, sit in a raised podium and have to be
addressed in a certain way. If you disrespect the judge, you
could get thrown in jail.

It is only theatre, however, and the leader must
recognize that the people are not really worshipping him,
only the role. Where necessary, he can accept the crown and
tolerate the ritual, but his real mission is not to be a
permanent leader, only a temporary facilitator. He
should know that being seen as superhuman is a terribly
vulnerable and dangerous position that he needs to extract
himself from as quickly as possible.

He highest message has to be: "You have to work it out for
yourselves."

—G.C.

A family involved in a
juvenile justice is seen praying before the start of
a sentencing hearing in June 2006.
The prayers didn't seem to affect the judge, who sentenced
the youth to 30 days in detention and a year of probation.